


Eau de Vie

by inanimentis



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Fluff, Host Clubs, M/M, Mild Smut, Minor Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Past Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi - Freeform, Post-Break Up, engineer!mingyu, host!minghao, im not sure the drunk sex tag fully applies here but i'll leave it just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanimentis/pseuds/inanimentis
Summary: That’s the moment Jihoon chose to appear in his life.Nothing was ever the same, after that.And now, the young man, more used to ease and pleasure in most areas of his life, felt anguish he had never truly experienced.Mingyu wants to forget Jihoon. So, he goes to a host club.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Eau de Vie

**Author's Note:**

> a few days ago, as i went to sleep, this fic popped in my head.  
>   
> took me one week to write, edit. i was very eager to post it as i had never written that much for a single chapter. i'm sorry though, it's not beta-read as i couldn't find any beta reader ! i apologize in advance in case there are typos.  
>   
> n.b : for this writing, i did research on both host clubs in South Korea and Japan. regarding South Korea, the only reliable resources i've found dated from like 6-10 years ago, so it might be not very accurate with the current situation there, and i apologize in advance if it is, indeed, the case.

*

Mingyu had never lacked anything in his life.  
He had a pretty basic childhood, one of a child from the middle class.  
  


High School was great.  
He was one of the “popular” students, always surrounded by friends and lusted after by the entire school.  
Having friends had never been a problem for him since he was a rather talkative and bubbly kid. The boy had something that attracted people around. Every student wanted to befriend him - or at the least, to be seen in his company.  
  
Nonetheless, the young boy talked to everyone, even those who weren’t as popular as him.  
At school, in his family circle and outside, he had the reputation of a kind-hearted and bubbly kid.  
  
High school had been definitely great, but college was even better for Mingyu.  
He attended lots of parties, where alcohol flowed freely as if exams of the very next day had ceased to exist, sometimes ending in nights of debauchery.  
  
At first, he enjoyed the freedom of having sex without some burden coming from any kind of relationship. He still kept a bitter taste of his dating period in high school. And although he knew he was a completely different and more mature person at the time, he had decided that being involved in a relationship of any kind was just too much of a hustle.  
  
But as he grew up and his college years were about to end, he eventually got tired of that way of life.  
That’s the moment Jihoon chose to appear in his life.  
Nothing was ever the same, after that.  
  
And now, the young man, more used to ease and pleasure in most areas of his life, felt anguish he had never _truly_ experienced.  
  
He was barely a functional being, sticking to a safe routine that would usually leave no room in his head to rewind his memories with Jihoon.  
  
The nights were the worst, though. No matter what he would do, his dreams would always end up featuring his ex, one way or another. As if, his mind was reminding him of the missing pieces of his heart and urging him to find them back.  
  
Every day that passed, these fantasies and memories were making his sanity crumble.  
  
Eventually, the young man resolved himself that he had to forget about Jihoon and move on.  
He _wanted_ to forget about Jihoon and move on. Yet alone, he wasn’t able to do that.  
  


The first time he wandered in the busy city of Seoul, searching for his _fix_ , that’s what he kept repeating in his head.  
It was early in the evening, but the sun was already setting. He could see a lot of white-collars walking in the opposite direction. 

  
Mingyu assumed they were finally leaving their workplace to drink with their colleagues, nurturing their image and prolonging this invisible but implicit bond between employees.  
Or maybe, they were leaving to go home after a long, tiring day, where their family waited for them.  
  
Usually working overtime at this hour of the day, the young man was confronted, after a long time, to a bitter reality: no one was waiting for him at home.  
It was easier to ignore this when he came back home late, his brain still reeling from never-ending strings of booleans and complex numbers.  
  


Trying to ignore this growing feeling, his eyes finally caught, muffled up in a vast alley of lightened panels, a panel with the name of the club he had chosen earlier over the internet.

  
He stopped for a while, studying the facade, and more importantly, the signage present on it. It displayed rows of pictures presenting men, all looking at his direction, and shining under an aggressive light.  
All of them looked to be in their twenties, and their scene names ― he guessed ― were written in Latin alphabet below their picture.  
  


Some of them were offering doe eyes who could have melted the toughest rock, while others subtly mixed coldness and enticement in their gaze.  
  
Mingyu was deeply struck by the beauty of one of them. He stared at his eyes, and lose all sense of time and reality for a while.  
_  
_ A few minutes later when he finally came back to reality, he pushed the door, his heart beating faster every second.

_He wanted to see these eyes in movement._

  
“Good evening,” he stuttered, trying not to look obvious.  
  
“Good evening, Sir. Is this your first time ?” a man standing at the reception said, looking up from his screen, dressed in an immaculate dark suit.

“Yes,” he answered, doing his best to conceal his discomfort.  
  
“Here’s the menu,” The receptionist handed him cardboard. “Please choose a host you want to meet first. Once you’re done, he’ll meet you in a few minutes,”  
  
Mingyu nodded and took the menu. For a moment, his brain looked for good reasons to turn around and never come back to this place.  
  
Still, he decided to fight his conscience, exhaling a sharp breath. He couldn’t and mostly didn’t _want_ to back off, now.  
  
Plus, he didn’t feel the need to look at the menu since he had already made his choice from the moment he had pushed the door. Nonetheless, he still pretended to think, mainly out of courtesy.  
He was much too happy to see that the host he had noticed earlier was still working here, and on top of that, available this night.  
  
When he handed back the menu to the receptionist, his forefinger pointing at the host’s pretty face, the employee smiled.  
  
And after a short waiting time, his eyes caught burgundy hair coming into focus.  
Mingyu decreed that the said “Minghao” was much prettier in reality.  
In fact, he wasn’t sure any piece of art would ever be able to honor his striking features.

“Good evening !” the host greeted, bending over. “Kim Mingyu-ssi ?” he inquired, as a smile formed on his lips.

He nodded and allowed his eyes to travel onto his face, his heartbeat barely quiet.  
  
He wasn’t a fan of mullet, but the man facing him totally pulled off this haircut; it looked so good on him.  
He had slightly tanned skin, and everything about his face evoked sharpness for the engineer.  
Sharp nose, sharp cheeks with a jawline that could have cut thesis research books. 

Sharp and bright eyes, softened by a thin but precise trait of pink eyeliner which matched the tone of his hair.  
  
He had the kind of look that could have put any human being at his mercy, in an off-putting way.  
  
The only thing that reminded him of softness on his face was his lips: They were glossy and enjoying plumpness enhanced by the makeup, as the lightning of the place glinted them off.  
  
The host asked him to follow him inside the club and Mingyu obliged.

The place was very luxurious: Black was the main color here but his eyes caught bits of white and brown too.  
The ceiling was furnished with heavy chandeliers that offered a bright but comfortable light.  
The luxury of the place was the main reason for Mingyu’s choice, and he was pleased to see that he hasn’t been fooled.  
  
They finally sat on a sofa, facing a pristine black table, and the raven-haired was careful to sit at a reasonable distance from the said-Minghao.  
  
As he allowed his eyes to glance at the host again, he came to the conclusion that regarding beauty and charisma, he was being offered more than what he had signed for. But he wasn’t one to complain, especially when the situation was actually favorable for him.

And so, his evening with Minghao began.

It started with a little chat: he answered the host’s superficial questions about his life and received compliments. He had also ordered a large bottle of soju, to begin with.  
  
Minghao had naturally offered to pour him the drink, but Mingyu was more comfortable doing it for himself, much to the host’s surprise.  
The whole situation seemed painfully superficial to Mingyu, but as the evening passed, his tongue loosened itself. 

The young man could feel his chest getting lighter and warmer, it was like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He wasn’t certain on whether if it was the alcohol or the fact that Minghao was actively listening to him and making him laugh, but he didn’t care.

Quickly, another bottle of alcohol came in and he drank over and over, pouring himself countless glasses of expensive alcohol. Though at one point, he decided to play the game and allowed sweet-Minghao to serve him, as the latter had gently requested for it the entire evening.  
  
When he was still sober enough to recognize that going back home would be incredibly difficult past this point, he notified the host of his departure.  
He paid the bill, his brain still clouded by alcohol, and his lips flashing a bright smile at him.  
  
The day after, Mingyu realized that he just couldn’t recall the number of glasses he had that night.  
Oh but, he quite remembered other hosts coming at their table, trying to seduce and entertain the new customer he was, like sirens seeking to shipwreck an opulent ship.  
  
He hadn’t fallen for their hook though, his eyes locked on Minghao’s entirety, trying to solve a riddle whose he wasn’t sure of the existence.  
  
No wonder he was ranked first, he thought to himself. His smile was a rare but gifted occurrence, a poem in prose he would have liked studying more often.  
It was also the way the young man looked so inaccessible and yet, granted to strangers both the privilege of spending time with him _and_ being pampered _by_ him for a few hours.  
  
During the night, another host had drawn his attention; he was pretty sure that his name was Seungkwan.  
The latter was still considered as a newbie in the club, but his amount of clients wouldn’t cease to increase day by day, according to what the other hosts had jabbered in the middle of the hubbub.  
  
Seungkwan was nothing like Minghao; in fact, he was perhaps his perfect opposite, but it looked like they loved each other a lot.  
  
Seungkwan, whose hair arbored a plain blonde color, was a very bubbly and funny host.

He gave off the vibe of a poet, even maybe the one of a bard; the kind to lure people into his crutches without them even noticing, and then make his presence the new pillar of their existence.  
  
Mingyu thought of him more like a bard though, because of his remarkably beautiful voice.  
He still remembered how good it had sounded in his ear, especially when he had been singing karaoke. It was to the point he had wondered ― and still did ― why the blond-haired host was still working here. This question had burned his lips for a long time, but nothing had come out from his mouth, fortunately.  
  
He had liked him too, and for a while, his fazed brain had considered choosing him as “named” host instead.  
  
But Minghao’s smile had instantly ruled out his doubts though. To seal this new contract, he had bought another bottle, surrounded by enthusiastic comments coming from all the hosts, even Minghao himself.  
  
  
He knew he had made the right choice when the latter had waved him goodbye from the facade of the club, smiling for the fourth time of the evening - or maybe the third, it had been hard to count at the time.  
  
“Stay safe, Kim Mingyu-ssi.” he had said with a light voice.  
  
Mingyu had waved back, with checks still sporting a red as bright as a jewel.  
  
After he had arrived back home and gone to lie on his king-size bed, he had decided Minghao was definitely his favorite.  
He had decided that maybe, he should go back there.

And the following day, he constated his thoughts hadn’t changed for the slightest. 

*  
  


At first, Mingyu came to the club once a week. Fully aware of the superficiality of this pleasure he was paying for, he couldn’t deny the effects that the evening spent talking and drinking with the burgundy-haired host had on his mind. They were too strong to be ignored.   
  
He was free of so much pressure whenever he talked with him. He could feel that going to work was less of a chore, now that he knew he would see the host in a few hours, or even that he _could_ see him at any moment.  
  
Something about Minghao made him safe enough to want to talk about his problems, or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way the burgundy-haired host, who Mingyu believed to have a remarkable resistance for alcohol, would always encourage him, sometimes risking to give him some advice.  
  
The client he was would always welcome them, surprised by the implication the other man showed.  
He quickly realized that although it was endearing to see, he didn’t need the other man to sing at karaoke or drink to feel entertained, safe, and sound.  
Oh, the latter still did all of these things, because he was a professional, he knew that.  
And he would let him do it, still grateful for his presence.  
  
Then, after the third evening spent with Minghao, Mingyu ended up coming back more often.  
  


He would try his best to come early enough in order to get to spend more time with him, alone.  
He would also try to be the most reasonable possible regarding the time he spent in the club, but it was honestly a hard thing to do with such a beautiful and interesting host by his side.  
  
Always full of regrets, he would usually go home early enough to still have few hours to sleep before going back to work, usually with a cruel hangover.  
  
Of course, this selfish pleasure of his cost a lot, but money was not a problem for Mingyu. Since he’d been graduated, it had never been. Working as a cybersecurity engineer paid a lot. 

  
Then one day, by means of Champagne towers and glasses of cognac, he gained access to the VIP room.  
It was decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the club, the main changes being the color of the couches, of the walls, and the lightning of the room.  
The furniture displayed an elegant burgundy color that matched Minghao’s hair, and the black walls were papered with pinky string lights, giving off a tremendous intimate vibe.  
  
The couches were clearly more isolated from each other than in the regular room, allowing them to sit closer, to his delight.  
  
“You smell good, Mingyu-ssi,” the host said one day, a charming smile rising on his lips. “You always smell so good, I want to eat you up, sometimes,”  
  
Minghao was obviously slightly inebriated while saying so, despite still trying to convey a sense of honesty through his beautiful brown eyes.  
The raven-haired chuckled fondly at his words, not bothered by the familiarity in the slightest way, revealing glittering canines he knew the host liked. A boundless impulse to touch his cheeks now present, he stopped in the middle of his move, not really sure he was allowed to do that.  
  
Minghao seemed not to care about rules, as he put the warm hand on his cheek, causing his client’s body to overheat. Then, Mingyu allowed his fingers to study the softness of his skin, causing him to let out a small whimper.  
  
The engineer sometimes felt guilty about the role of a therapist he assigned to the host, three times per week. However, the bill he would pay in the middle of the night always woke him up when he wasn’t too drunk: he was enjoying a service. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

But at least, Jihoon’s face was finally starting to fade and erode amongst those waves of ethanol. 

*

  
Mingyu’s life was made of deadlines; deadlines at work, deadlines in his private life.  
Only a few years and he would finally turn thirty, to his parent’s distress.  
They were actively pressuring him to find a wife soon with, of course, the implicit hope of having grandchildren while they were still alive. Bloodline was something important for his parents, especially since he was their only son.  
  
That’s not what he wanted. He liked all genders but he knew that men were definitely his soft spot. He was actually becoming unsure of his supposed attraction for women, as time passed.  
  
But, he also wanted to make his parents proud.  
In fact, he couldn’t remember a period in his life where he hadn’t wanted that.  
  
The young man had really thought that following and passing a double major in one of the best universities in South Korea would have been enough.  
  
It wasn’t after all, Mingyu had realized.  
  
Swaddling all these obligations with work and the recent heartbreak he had to experience, he was still strongly convinced that he was living a life not-so-bad compared to some of his former classmates ― who weren’t earning as much as he was.  
  
Plus, he had Minghao now. It felt good to have someone to lean on, even if this bound solely existed thanks to his money.  
  
Actually, the engineer shunned to think about this side of their relationship because money and his pretty face had almost always been the catalyst for his relations with others.  
Even the friends he had were a good example of that.  
They didn’t really care about his life, limiting themselves with the surface or with what could benefit them, one way or another. He couldn’t confide in them about serious matters, he was confident in that fact. 

At least, with the host, he didn’t have these feelings.

And when the latter would ask him, with a voice he knew too well, if he wanted to buy another bottle, of course, he would say “yes”.

When Mingyu bought expensive bottles of alcohol, it happened that he would drink directly from the bottle and pass it to Minghao, who would pass it to other hosts in turn. The fact that Minghao’s lips sucked the bottle at the same spot as he did always left him giddy.  
  
It’s during one of these interactions that the host had taken the opportunity to ask him to stop calling him formally.  
The raven was more than happy to oblige but only if he stopped too.  
He agreed, and Mingyu’s insides twisted painfully in happiness.  
  
Sitting on the comfortable and expensive couches of the club, listening to him, actually talking about life, laughing at his jokes, or making him laugh; all of these things had become cherished moments.  
  
And everything Minghao would offer him, he would take.  
And for his brown orbs, he would drink anything, anytime.  
  
He had even started to pay most of his expenses in alcohol but also meals, in delight, and without any struggle. Yes, maybe the host had pushed him a little to do so, but who cared? Surely not him.

“I’ve got something for you, Minghao,” he had hummed one day, handing him a black bag covered with minimalist letters.  
  
Minghao’s lips had turned up into a vibrant smile, which at this moment officially became the most important thing in his world.  
  
Mingyu experienced a living dream three times a week, through millions of won, and he thought it was a rather honest price.

*

Nonetheless, the purity of this dream is soon tainted by his own greed. 

Night by night, it became harder to be alone with the host.  
The times he usually spent with Minghao alone started to be replaced by time shared with other customers.  
  
Everyone wanted to spend time with the ranked first host.  
  
Crazy how much someone could get so lusted after, in the space of one evening. For a while, it had reminded him of his high school years.  
  


Yet, it was to be expected since the Chinese man was ranked first in the club, but the demands had considerably increased, for a reason the engineer couldn’t grasp. 

  
This situation obliged him to have to entertain simultaneously two clients sometimes.  
  
Thus, the hours, minutes, seconds, milliseconds spent with the young man started to become Mingyu’s obsession.

And consequently, Jihoon’s face had restarted to emerge in his mind: haunting him at work, haunting him on his way back home despite his fuzzy brain, and haunting him at night.  
  
He realized that despite all the drinks he had inserted in his system, Jihoon was still his last thought before sleeping.  
  
He wasn’t certain he could forget him anymore.  
Maybe his wishes were only a dream, destined to never be achieved.  
Maybe he was destined to suffer from this insidious pain and void, forever.  
How was he supposed to know?  
  
Being the pride and joy of his parents by having good grades, behaving to honor this reputation of a good, bubbly, and gentle boy ― then man ― he always had; he knew how to do that.  
  
But, _feelings_? His _feelings_?  
  
He hadn’t been very familiar with them, except when everything was okay. But everything had always been okay, at least that’s what he had kept telling himself.  
  
And Mingyu now realized that _feelings_ weren’t as simple as complex numbers and cryptography. They were unpredictable, and evolved so fast, too fast. They could eat him alive, or make him fly high.  
  
He was all alone with these intoxicating _feelings_ , thoughts, and memories. He hadn’t been prepared for that. Jihoon hadn’t prepared him for that, with his damned gorgeous smiles and dimples.  
  
For a while, the young man had thought about coming to the club more often, but he didn’t want to scare the host.  
Not to mention Minghao had never talked about his other clients.  
But here wasn’t the problem. The raven-haired was now, more than ever, aware of their existence. And it was enough to make a sharp and painful burn coming in waves in his stomach, this time not from ethanol.  
  
These other clients were sometimes inches from him, sitting alongside the burgundy-haired man. 

The newcomers in the club also started to stir his anxiety. The place reeked with their smells full of desire for the host, even when they hadn’t chosen to meet him in the first place.  
  
And sometimes, his intuition wasn’t wrong: they would often end up nominate Minghao as their named host or at least try, as at one point he just couldn’t be nominated by any new customer anymore.  
  
It would have been unfair for the others, who would have earned a much smaller gain regarding customers’ commission compared to Minghao’s.  
  
Plus, the host started to have a schedule that didn’t allow him to rest properly.

It relieved the engineer a bit, and the latter realized, deep down, how foolish it was. Still, one day he selfishly confided his feelings to the host. 

“Mingyu, it doesn’t matter how many customers I have. You’re still one of my favorites. Actually, I think you are my only favorite,” he replied then with a genuine smile, frail digits traveling across his arms and drawing tiny circles.  
  
Of course, he would say that. Minghao was a professional, after all, he thought.  
  
And if he was here, it was to _forget_ , even if it was with paid love and tales.  
  
How could he forget that?  
  
Thus, he drank, again and again, sometimes until walking a few steps equaled to climbing the Jangsan mountain.  
  
During such times, the host would gently put his arms around his waist, and help him walk. And when Mingyu was lucky enough to be his last customer of the night, Minghao would occasionally take him home. But only after a long and discreet session consisting of throwing up his bowels, because of the excessive amount of alcohol he had gulped down all night with different clients.  
  


In the taxi, Mingyu would always put his head on his shoulders, muttering weak thank you-s. And Minghao would hug him and caress his neck, despite himself feeling tough dizziness crushing his head.  
  
In front of his modern door, the host would always accept his weak demands for one last hug, even if the number of “one last hug” always exceeded one.  
  
_Why_ though?  
  
In his sumptuous apartment, the engineer would wonder why he couldn’t just accept the void, and move on.  
He would wonder why Minghao seemed so close and yet, so far from him.  
  
Maybe he wasn’t living a dream after all.  
  


But he just had to be more careful with his heart, right?  
  
Maybe then, Jihoon’s face would finally disappear.

*

  
Shortly after opening its gates to Mingyu, the VIP Room became too crowded for the young engineer.

  
He was Minghao’s last client this night, but the raven-haired didn’t know that.  
Everything was going smoothly between them, despite his growing worries.  
  
Earlier that night, he had been careful not to drink too much, even though he was aware that the host’s wage depended on his client’s alcohol consumption.  
  
He wanted something specific, and he knew that drinking until he couldn’t remember his name was not a good idea to obtain it.  
Eventually, the silence fell upon them and he left no time for the other man to fill it. 

Without beating around the bush, he asked him if they could have sex, his voice calm and his face dead serious.  
  
He didn’t want to make him awkward, so he didn’t offer him money right away, but hinted subtly in his demand that he would pay a lot for a night with him.  
  
It wasn’t a lie. 

But, it was strictly forbidden, inside the club.  
Physical touch between hosts and clients was barely acceptable.  
  


However, the rules regarding actions made _outside_ the club were blurry enough for Minghao to consider the offer, without money and for a reason he didn’t voice.  
  
That’s how he ended up laying naked on Mingyu’s velvet sheets, sweating and whispering sweet pleas into the man’s ears, his eyes injected with alcoholic blood. 

The raven-haired man was allowed to taste Minghao’s quivering entrance with his tongue; savoring both its taste and the whimpers permeating his eardrums.  
  
And when finally, he thrust his painfully hard length into his sweet entrance, his entire body shuddered at how hot the host was inside. 

Gently clenching the skin of his neck with his teeth, Mingyu relished the greatest eau-de-vie he had ever tasted.

Minghao’s face, usually so cold, so impassive, was sprinkled with absolute lust and a low grunt escaped his mouth at the view.  
  
Soon, his whispers gradually turned into moans, causing dopamine to shoot furiously through the engineer’s brain.

Deadlines were a galaxy away when he was with Minghao.

*

Mingyu had found his haven of peace on earth, it seemed.  
  
His visits to the VIP room decreased, as the time spent with Minghao outside of the club would increase.  
Most of the time, he was the one to ask the host out, but sometimes it happened that Minghao asked him too, his voice giddy and his thin digits holding a brimming glass of alcohol.  
  
Two times out of three, the latter would end up in his bed with eyelids clumped with moisture and a mouth offering sweet sounds to the engineer.

  
One day, he found himself cooking in his kitchen for two, while the host was still sleeping.

It seemed that the latter hadn’t cared enough to put an alarm on since it was his off-day. 

  
During the evenings he had spent talking with him, he had learned about his favorite things to eat in the morning. And Mingyu had memorized them.  
  


The smile the burgundy-haired offered him at the realization, a steamy plate of food set in front of him, was worth thousands of thank you-s. The host still articulated these words though.  
  
Later that day, they watched TV, cuddled in Mingyu’s fancy furniture, and after a last, pressing kiss, Minghao went back home.  
  
It ended up happening three more times before the host started to use work as an excuse to leave in the morning, not eating his food anymore.  


And then as if by magic, Jihoon’s face started to pop again in his head; like a bad, haunting dream. 

*

  
Mingyu realized he wanted more, again.  
  
He needed more to forget Jihoon, and he wanted, _needed_ more of Minghao.  
  
He had enough of this relationship hovering around not-so-sweet liquor and he hated himself for that.  
He was fully aware that he was surely not the first client to want that.  
  
Consequently, he had tried to reduce his visits to the club, drinking all alone instead. But Minghao kept sending him texts, making the task way harder than it should have been in the first place.  
Hard to say if it was customer service or genuine interest for his person but he was certain of one thing: he was aching for the host’s sincere, and authentic presence.  
  
And when he finally voiced his wishes, still wearing a bathrobe while Minghao remained naked in the middle of his luxurious living room, the latter put on an act the raven-haired knew he must have had practiced a lot before.  
  
He didn’t want that.

“Maybe you don’t trust me yet Hao, but I don’t want that,” he blabbered. “I don’t want things to be like this between us anymore. There is too much alcohol and...inconsistency. I want us to get to know each other. Are you telling me that all of this is just work for you ?!” he asked, his voice filled with raw pain.

“We can’t be together Mingyu-ssi,” The tone of the host was harsh and cold, burning Mingyu’s stomach just like a fresh glass of cognac would do. 

“Minghao, why ?”

“My work isn’t compatible with any kind of relationship. I have no time for this. I need this job, to pay the bills you know? So, we can’t be together.”

“I’ve plenty of money if you want ! I don’t even care if I have to be your sugar daddy or something. I’ve already paid things for you, I can do more! I’ve way too much money for myself. I want us to be more.” he blurted, his eyes starting to burn in a familiar way.  
  
“Why? Because of what you’ve seen of me at the club? Because of how good the sex is? I’m sorry, but you don’t know me !” his interlocutor hollered suddenly, tired of putting on an act. “Yeah, do that. Give me your money. And then what? What will happen to me when you finally realize you don’t want to do shit with me? When you realize my personality is nowhere compatible with yours? That neither is my schedule? When you realize I’m just not what you’d have imagined and you don’t want to help me anymore? Have you ever thought about that ?”

  
While he talked, his face was distorted with something like anger, but Mingyu knew it was something else.  


“It will never happen, Hao,” he sighed, passing one hand through his hair.

“Oh yeah? And how can you be so sure? Are you a medium now?” Minghao spat out.

“You’re telling me that there wasn’t a piece, not even a shard of you during the past six months ?” Mingyu asked with a croaky voice.  
  
Silence.  
The host ignored his question and started to put on clothes he had folded and placed on one of the couches.  
  


“I have a job, and...That’s the only thing I can do, for now. I need this money.”  
  
“I can give you this money Minghao, more than you can ima-”  
  
“You’ll eventually start to hate me and I’ll be left with nothing. Don’t take it personally. That’s just how things are. I’ve already tried, and trust me, it never works. I’m nothing like I am at the club.”

“And yet, we’ve been spending time outside and-”

“And ?”  
  
He could have sworn that he heard something breaking in his chest.

“And you were still putting on an act weren’t you ?” he breathed after a while, as a never-ending wave of sorrow slowly submerged him.  
  
Minghao didn’t answer his question and instead bent over him to kiss him gently. He barely responded, feeling nauseous from all the emotions.

Later after the door had shut, Mingyu was still unable to identify the culprit behind the salty taste of this kiss.

*

Mingyu, a young and gifted engineer in cybersecurity, felt like a coward.  
  
Since this argument with Minghao, he hadn’t set foot in the club.  
And the hosts’ usual texts urging him to come back to the club after a week or so of absence were nowhere to be seen.  
  
He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized sooner that he was starting to fall in love with the host, but maybe it was Minghao’s effect for him.

Ever since, he had happily started to participate in after-work bars meeting with his colleagues. By the end of these meetings, he would usually be so drunk that his colleagues would have to take turns taking him home. One colleague, in particular, would often sacrifice himself when his colleagues were in a state that dangerously approached the tall man’s one.   


His name was Seokmin, and he also worked in the IT section. He was a brilliant developer with a smile that could have lighted up an entire room deprived of electricity, Mingyu was confident in that fact.  
He was grateful for the help his colleagues would give him, especially Seokmin as at one point, the latter had naturally become the one in charge of taking the tall man home.  
  
The days after these meetings were the worst.  
No matter how many times it had happened, it was always awkward to walk towards Seokmin’s desk to offer a heartfelt apology. The latter would always reply with a bright smile, displaying perfectly arranged teeth. Then, he would request from him a cup of iced coffee later as repayment.

His chestnut-haired colleague must have known how awkward he felt at these times, and maybe it was a way to relieve him from these heavy guilt feelings, he thought.  
  
Anyways, he was grateful for that and would always pay him his iced coffee during lunchtime. He liked Seokmin a lot and he had actually started to feel like he was the only person who cared about his life.  
  
Maybe he could be considered as a _friend_?  
  
Mingyu couldn’t be certain about this.  
However, it happened that they talked about their respective lives in-depth, only the two of them, and it felt good.

*

Two weeks since their argument and Minghao had only texted him once.  
  
The text looked a lot like the last one he had received before, and the engineer figured that his interlocutor had simply copy-pasted the message and changed a few words.  
The end of his text was punctuated with emoticons, but he knew they didn’t convey his true feelings towards him.  
  
[ Mingyu had decided it was a bad idea to answer and didn’t reply. ]

  
*

Three weeks, and no sign of Minghao.  
  
Mingyu still drank with his colleagues, although he was more comfortable drinking by himself, in the late hours of the night. 

Replaying his last moments with the host over and over, holding a brimming glass of alcohol between his digits.

It wasn’t only Jihoon’s face that appeared in his dreams. Now, Minghao was there as well.

And, it hurt to breathe. 

He truly felt pathetic for this, but he gulped down that much sweet ethanol in the hope that it would erode, morph his feelings into tiny insignificant atoms; while he was falling in that colossal hole of despair.

Yes, it hurt to breathe. But he had never been the luckiest in love. 

He had come to this conclusion the day Jihoon had dumped him, after four years of relationship, for a certain “Seungcheol”.  
It took him a few seconds, but Mingyu eventually remembered who Seungcheol was.  
It was the man Jihoon had told him countless times to stop worrying about.  
  
They were supposed to be only “good friends”, but he had sensed something was weird from the moment his ex-boyfriend had introduced him.  
  
Maybe it was the way Seungcheol had always looked at him. The engineer was convinced Jihoon had liked the attention.

Yes, it was true that he had been so busy with work during the last year of their relationship; but he had loved Jihoon with every atom of his heart. Every single day since they had gotten together, he had tried to convey these feelings to him.

And Jihoon knew that, but what Mingyu gave him, it wasn’t enough. That’s what he had said. Thus, on this cold day of December, he had concluded that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.  
  
Since he was a little boy, his parents had taught him that love was conditional.  
  
Ultimately, Minghao had proved to him that love was _never_ enough. 

  
But it was okay, he still had a job, colleagues and “friends”. He still managed to be the bubbly and funny friend and make everyone laugh.

Sometimes when he was alone, Mingyu would laugh at himself too, salty water rolling down his cheeks.

*

One day, Mingyu drank too much and collapsed in the middle of his living room. 

The next time he opened his eyes, the world that came into his focus was mostly blank and impersonal. White walls, white tiled floors, a standing white blouse, and Seokmin by his sides.

One more glass and he wouldn’t have been among the living, the doctor had said. 

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Mingyu-ssi?” his colleague had asked, mocha-brown eyes filled with tears threatening to rush down his tanned cheeks. “What’s wrong ? You can talk to me. I’ll never make fun of you or anything. Please, talk to me.”

The engineer had looked at him with fuzzy eyes, not trusting what his eyes were transmitting him.  
  
_Someone was ready to cry for me? No way._

When Seokmins’s cheeks eventually got wet, the engineer resolved himself.

He had freed himself from this excruciating burden, the one that had been crushing his heart, mind, and soul for years, and allowed trails of salty water to shine on his cheeks. 

Talking to his colleague had helped a lot, and shortly after that, he had attended his first appointment with a psychiatrist. 

His parents had come to visit him, eyes filled with sadness but also repressed anger. As they talked, he had announced that he liked boys.  
  
No, he hadn’t been lying.  
If he was being honest with himself, he thought that girls were pretty, but he didn’t feel attracted to them, unlike _boys_.  
  
His parent’s eyes had changed, turned into something more complex that Mingyu had been unable to describe himself. The flow of tears coming from his parents after that was pretty significative though.  
  
But the young man was tired of living for others. He was almost thirty years old and he had to learn how to recognize his feelings and not others’, how to be alone with those. How to process them.  
  
As exhausting as it appeared even for himself, it was his only way out, and he was fully aware of that now.  
  


Slowly and with tremendous help coming from professionals but also Seokmin, he had come to terms with the fact that he would never have a stable relationship with Minghao.   
  
That’s not like the host had been wrong when he had hollered that his schedule wouldn’t fit with Mingyu’s one.  
To be honest, now that he was finally walking on the tough road of recovery, he was almost sure that he couldn’t be in a relationship with someone working at night and drinking that much of alcohol, to the cost of his health.  
  
The young man was finally sober enough to realize that.  
  
Yet, he still felt like a hypocrite since he had been a part of this system, once. He couldn’t have the pretension to snatch the host from this life.  
It was his body, his life, hence his choices; as bad as they were in Mingyu’s eyes.

Still, it didn’t put a stop to the “What if?” often ringing into his head, like his alarm clock in the morning.  
  
He had received few texts from Minghao. They were mostly asking how he was doing and didn’t mention coming to the club again. 

Still, he wasn’t ready to answer them. And yet, he had thought a lot about seeing him one last time, to say goodbye.  
But his therapist had strongly recommended the engineer to avoid any sort of contact with the host.  
  
Despite that, he was convinced he could at the least send him one last message, explaining to him how he felt, and then that would be it. 

Still, it had taken some time for him to start writing this message.  
Ignoring his texts was easy because this way, Minghao was still in his life in a way.

But now to imagine that ultimately, after this text, everything would stop and that the host would definitely vanish from his life - it was too hard.

He eventually realized that though he was afraid, he had a life before Minghao and before Jihoon. Yes, it wasn’t a dreamy one and yes, it was a long time ago.  
  
He was currently on the right path to make things right for him, to make his life better and he couldn’t back off.  
  
His life would never be the same, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t be good, or even better.  
  


*

His text was not short, but rather straight to the point.

**Kim Mingyu** **  
** [03/20 - 10:00 pm]  
  
_Good evening, Minghao._ _  
_ _  
_ _I don’t know if you’ll read this. It’s been a long time since we talked to each other, isn’t it?_

_I’m sorry for not answering your messages. A lot of things, good and bad, happened in my life. I was just so busy._ _  
_ _  
_ _I hope you are okay, and I hope you’re taking care of yourself._

 _I write this, to tell you that I won’t come back to the club._ _Maybe you don’t care, I don’t know at this point, but I stopped drinking. I’m still in therapy, although things are much better now._ _  
_ _  
_ _Remember when you wished for me to find someone to talk to, besides you?_ _  
_ _Well, I found this person. He’s a good friend. I hope you have this person in your life too, Minghao._ _  
_ _  
_ _I wanted to thank you for these evenings spent talking about life, love, and the world._

 _These evenings you sometimes spent listening to my problems, when you had your share of it._ _  
_ _  
_ _I still believe that you’re a human being leaving sparkles everywhere it walks. I didn’t say that only because I was drunk._

 _I loved our talks, although they were maybe an act coming from you._ _  
_ _It was still a sublime act._ _  
_ _  
_ _Also, I don’t know how to say that. But I guess I should just say it if you’ve come that far haha._ _  
_ _  
_ _I love you, so much. Not like a friend but like someone I’d like to spend my life with._

_And you were right: it is a problem. Our lives are probably too different, now._

_And maybe, I just like the idea of you._

_Though, my feelings for you are strong._ _  
_ _  
_ _Anyways. You told me you liked to paint, and dance. Well, I hope that one day, it will work out for you._ _I really hope it will._

_Please take care of yourself._

_Farewell,_

_Mingyu._  
  
With trembling hands, he pressed the button “Send”.  
  
The following days were hard to live for Mingyu as he tried not to check if the host had seen his messages and better - if the host had replied. 

After three days, it was so unbearable that Mingyu finally gave in, checking the chatroom. There, he saw that the latter hadn’t blocked him during all this time, and had also read his message.  
  
But there was no answer.  
  
From then on, he knew that he shouldn’t wait for one.

  
*

Mingyu was walking into the streets of Shibuya, during one of the rare days off he had.

Two years ago, shortly after he had last texted Minghao, he had been contacted by a fellow engineer. The latter had proposed him to participate in a big project, after hearing about him from another connection, and the young engineer had accepted.  
  
The project was actually a significant discovery for the cybersecurity area, and soon Mingyu gained great notoriety. This exact notoriety allowed him to quit the job in his good - but not very famous - company, looking for a more fulfilling and challenging position. 

  
And then, he finally joined one of the biggest technology companies in the current decade. He had become one of the most famous researchers in cybersecurity in Asia, hence overseas.

And thanks to his job, he had attended countless conventions everywhere in the world, sometimes even animating workshops. He wouldn’t have traded it for another one.

He had been blooming ever since. 

His relationship with his parents had become complicated, but Mingyu had accepted that a long time ago. The look the society had on his sexual orientation or the way he talked about his parents barely affected him anymore. He knew what he was, and what he was worthy of.  
  
Working in a field in full expansion and lacking specialist probably helped him, although he never shared his personal life that easily, especially with colleagues.  
  
He was still friends with Seokmin, more than ever, and the researcher was very grateful for his presence. Without him, he wasn’t sure he would have ever found this strength within. 

Because yes, that’s what his therapist and his friend had repeated him very often: He was the one to thank for this progress, not them.  
  
In the end, the most important thing Mingyu had learned was to be alone with his feelings, and how to process them in order to grow.  
  
Nobody was perfect and the engineer was deeply convinced that recovery was a constant process, but he could feel it deep in his soul: he was finally healing. 

The steps he had taken were gargantuan and he was grateful for so many things.

He had never thought that one day, he would have been here, in Japan, wandering in the streets. Actually, his company had transferred him to Japan to help with one of the branches, which needed backup on a serious security matter regarding the systems.  
  
The tall man had arrived only one week ago but so far he enjoyed the hectic capital: the museums and temples were a must-see, and he liked the way this city overflowed with original and spectacular styles in the streets; he had already taken inspiration from a few looks.  
  


He hadn’t had the time to see with his own eyes the beautiful landscape this country had to offer for lack of time, but he planned to.  
  
On this warm day, the tall man was actually looking for a record store, he wanted to buy one of his favorite artist’s new album.  
  
Greeting the employee present by the door, he entered the store, looking for the “Pop” section of the shop.  
  
When he finally found it, he let his eyes slide on the promotional altar placed on the beginning of the row. It always featured the hottest release of the week, showing through a screen a short clip of a title track, and was filled with disks of the new record.  
  
His heart stopped beating for a second when his orbs recognized a familiar face.

  
It was a short appearance but he was certain of what he had just seen.

  
Here he was; under the bright lights of a Japanese records store, under the spotlights of Mingyu’s eyes, moving his body in a seductive and skilled way.

  
The man scanned the panel full of kanjis, katakanas and hiragana displayed below the screen.  
  


― **_SEVENTEEN’s_** _new album release !_ _  
_ _Released on June, 10th, Buy it NOW !_ _  
_ **Concert tickets** soon on sale! ―  
  


He walked closer to the altar, his hands clammy, and his heartbeats threatening to pierce his chest.  
  
Taking one of the disks into his hands, he scanned its cover. It displayed what he would have identified as twelve men at first look, wearing classy clothes and sitting or standing in different way _s._ _  
__  
_ That burgundy hair he had cherished so much in the past was gone.  
  
Now, Minghao wore grey platinum hair that gave him a different aura from the one Mingyu had always known. The raven-haired noted that he was still as beautiful, if not more gorgeous than ever.

Then, his eyes scanned the store for an employee, his heart tightening as his nostrils reminisced the scent of sweet ethanol.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this writing !  
>   
> kudos & comments are appreciated :)  
> as for me, i tremendously enjoyed writing this one-shot.
> 
> you can find me on:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/inanimentis)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/inanimentis)
> 
> also if you're interested -  
> there is a very great documentary about host clubs in japan, called "the great happiness space" that i highly recommend watching if you're interested in the subject and its dynamics in play.  
> it is a heartbreaking documentary but at the same time, an interesting one as i think i've learned few interesting things about human condition when i watched it for the first time.  
> anyways, thank you and stay safe!  
> 


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